Mile High

Total Chapters: 1

Buffy’s a stewardess, trapped with the world’s most infuriating passenger – a baaad bleached blonde jerk named Spike. But, before the flight is over, oh, she’ll have her sweet revenge…

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Author’s Notes:¬†This is complete PWP. It has no redeeming or literary value whatsoever, except for the sex. Just so we’re all on the same page. ~_^

Buffy had hated him from the moment she first set eyes on him. Five years as a stewardess had taught her to spot an asshole on sight. Even Willow had winced sympathetically when she saw the man that had been seated in seat 32-G. Buffy had merely sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

“Can you please return your seat to its upright position for take-off?” she asked politely.

A slow smirk. His full bottom lip twitched upwards, blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and his scarred eyebrow nearly rose to the line of his platinum hair as he took in the cute little blonde whose job was to ‘serve’ him All. Through. The. Flight. “Dunno if I know how properly, pet,” he practically purred. Huh, British. Usually it’s the American ones that are the jerks. “Why doncha show me?”

Buffy watched his tongue do this thing where it rolled up under his teeth, and she gulped. And then scowled for good measure, just to let him know that this sort of behavior wasn’t appropriate. “Just press the button on your armrest,” she instructed.

“Can’t find it,” he countered with a pout. “Help me.” A teasing flicker in the seemingly endless pools of his eyes. “Buffy,” he read the name of the tag of her blue uniform.

God, he made her name sound like the dirtiest thing in the world. Inwardly, she seethed. Yup, jerk spotted right away. And how illegal should it be for a complete asshole to have eyes and cheekbones like that? She mourned the unjustness of it all. And then put on her best false ‘customer service’ smile. “Of course, sir,” she agreed, barely managing not to clench her teeth.

He settled back comfortably in the seat to enjoy his ‘service’ as her slight blonde form leaned right over him to find the button. He sprawled his legs out on purpose, necessitating that she lean out further, that cute tight ass of hers waving merrily in the aisle. He briefly wondered if he’d be arrested for taking a bite out of her scrumptious behind, but decided he probably would. And even Spike had his limits.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy having her hovering only a few inches over his good bits. She was so short, she was almost brushing over the tip of rising erection as she adjusted the seat back. For now, the almost-contact was more than enough for him, and he savored the sweet torment.

Inwardly, Buffy was cursing hard enough to make a sailor blush. She just knew he was intentionally blocking the seat adjustment button with that huge black duster he was wearing for the sole purpose of having her stretched over his lap. She finally managed to push aside the leather and punched in the button.

The seat flew back.

“You’ll need to sit up so I can pull the seat forward,” she informed him through tight lips.

“Right then,” he seemed to agree readily and moved forward.

She tugged on the seat. And realized that he was still holding it back with his hand. He just looked to everyone else like he was complying. She ground her teeth and fought back the instinct to kill.

And pulled harder with a grunt.

Spike practically moaned aloud. Firm, perky breasts dangling right in front of his face and this sweet little stewardess grunting in his lap with excursion. This was going to be one hell of a flight. Figuring he’d pushed his luck enough for now, he released the seat, savoring her breathy gasp of success as she finally won out.

She instantly scrambled back and narrowed her eyes at him in a deadly gaze. “Will that be all, sir?” She spat out the word as if he was anything but.

“Thanks for the helpful.service.” He filled the word with every dirty connotation he could, chuckling to himself as she stomped off up the aisle and watching that sweet little ass as she went. Aw yeah, this was going to be great.

“Jerk!” Buffy hissed as soon as she reached the stewardess’ seats and sat down next to Willow.

“As bad as he looks?” the redhead said apologetically.

“He practically manipulated me into giving him a lap dance!” Buffy whispered in a fury. “Really subtly, too, so I can’t quite report him.”

Willow groaned. “A ‘sex-crazed pig’ type of asshole. Those are always the worst.” She perked up. “But he’s had his fun now, right? I mean, maybe he’ll lay off now. Most do.”

Buffy dared to glance up and got a blue-eyed wink and a hungry glance from the tips of her shoes all the way to the top of her head, with a couple of strategic stops. Buffy looked down, spotted where the navy slip she wore beneath her stewardess’ skirt was showing, and quickly jerked her skirt back down, crossing her legs more tightly against his wanton glance.

Oh yeah, Spike thought arrogantly, watching the blue lace vanish for sight, by the end of this flight, ‘ll have myself One. Good. Lay.

That’s it, Buffy grumbled inwardly, by the end of this flight, I’ll show this asshole who’s really the boss.

*Bing* “That sound means the captain has turned of the fasten seatbelt sign,” a cheerful and mechanical voice announced. “Passengers are now allowed to move about the cabin. We do request that all passengers leave their seatbelts fastened while they are seated, for safety reasons. Thank you, and please enjoy your flight.”

No sooner had the message completed before a little blue service light dinged on Buffy’s board. Row 32. She groaned. And, steeling herself up, she walked down the aisle.

Spike’s eyes remained fixed on her legs the entire time.

Buffy angrily flicked off the service button. “How may I help you, sir?” she said in most fake cheerful voice either of them had heard.

“‘m hot,” Spike complained. Or maybe gloated. She couldn’t quite tell.

A deep, calming breath. “The air-conditioning-“

“Is already on me,” he cut her off. Did that tongue thing again. “Still hot, pet.” The way he looked at her made it all too clear she was exactly what he needed to solve his problem.

“Then, perhaps you should remove your coat,” Buffy suggested testily.

He seemed to like that idea. Always a good thing when a pretty woman asked you to remove your clothing, after all. “Help me,” he said smugly.

“You are now able to leave your seat,” she reminded him curtly.

“Yeah, but already went to all that effort of getting’ my seatbelt fastened.” He thrust up with his hips to show her. “Wouldn’t wanna hafta bother you with helpin’ me to get it back on.”

Buffy’s eyes widened at the size of the bulge in his jeans and for once agreed with something ultra-asshole had said. Anything to keep away from that portion of his anatomy. Her mind chalked up yet another gross miscarriage of justice: Why, oh why, does this pig have to be hung like a wild stallion? The smirk on his face indicated all too clearly that he knew exactly what to do with every inch of the monster in his jeans as well.

“Fine, let’s get off that coat,” she said tersely.

In an effort to be as unhelpful to her as possible, he simply held out his hands, leaving her to do all the work.

Buffy muttered under her breath and moved to slide the softened leather down his lean shoulders. He shrugged his arms free for her, but in the process decided that her hip was the perfect place to rest his hand for ‘balance’. Buffy shot him a dark look; he flashed her an unashamed smile in response.

“Halfway there, luv,” he teased.

She refused to acknowledge that with a response and brushed his hand off of her waist. She tugged pointedly at the leather coat, but he was sitting on it, of course. No doubt making sure her angle was bad, too. “I’m sure you can handle the rest by yourself,” she hissed, glancing around the making sure none of the other passengers were noticing her rudeness. Fortunately, they were at the very back, and most other passengers were trying to sleep through the long flight.

He grinned. “Now, now, luv,” he teased. “Paid for good and proper service. Don’t want me to hafta complain about the rude stewardesses, now do you?” Tongue thing, take three.

Stop doing that! Buffy’s mind screamed. No matter how obnoxious this guy was, every time he did that tongue thing, she felt this uncontrollable wetness between her thighs. God, how she would just love to show this jerk some manners.

Outwardly, her eyes narrowed before she was forced to cave in to his wishes. Reluctantly, she moved into his row to properly remove the coat. Naturally, he’d set it up so that the only way she could stand was with one leg on either side of his knees. Grimacing, she reached around him to pull at the jacket.

It didn’t budge.

“You’ll need to get up so I can pull it out,” she hissed, her tone venomous.

“‘Course, luv.”

“I’m not your ‘luv’!” she snapped. “Now, on three. One, t-“

His hands caught hold of her hips on the ‘two’, and he rose right up out of his seat, the hardness in his jeans oh-so-not-accidentally thrusting up to grind roughly into the space between her thighs.

Buffy squealed in outrage and leapt back, yanking the coat with her as she went. “Y-You-! You! Y-You.!” In her fury, she couldn’t get past that one word. Although whether her fury was at the stunt he’d just pulled or her body’s own eager response to the quick dry hump was anyone’s guess.

His smirk had turned self-satisfied now. Oh, he had felt only too well how her body had ground back against his for an instant. “Still not my ‘luv’?” he ribbed her.

“No!” she spat angrily, fists clenched in the leather of his jacket before she stalked away from the infuriating-beyond-belief temptation, violently stuffing his coat in the first overhead bin she found.

“He’s still at it?” Willow asked in surprise, coming back from helping a normal traveler.

Buffy refused to respond, instead plucking up the latest issue of Vogue angrily and burying herself in its pages. But that didn’t stop her from just knowing that his hungry eyes were still on her.

“Chicken or vegetarian?” Buffy didn’t know how she managed to make the question sound so polite, given what The Jerk (in caps now) had done earlier.

“Chicken, please,” he said perfectly politely, looking up at her with falsely innocent eyes.

Buffy handed him the tray, her own inner alarms going off. Just what was he up to now? She didn’t believe he’d finally decided to start behaving like a gentleman. Not for a minute.

Turning her attention back to her job, she wheeled the cart up to the next row, turning to the passenger in seat 31-J. “Chicken or vegetari-ah!” she squealed aloud.

Spike snickered. He had, as she moved forward, oh-so-cautiously begun a stretch that resulted in his hand ‘accidentally’ slipping right up under her skirt and up to her silky panties. God, he loved those cute little stewardess uniforms with the short skirts and the tight blouses that made her titties stick right out at him. In appreciation of her outfit, he rubbed his thumb against her clit hard through the fabric, grinning inwardly at how wet she was.

“You-!” Buffy was furious again, spinning to face him.

He retracted his arms. “Oh, so sorry. Did I hit you when I stretched?” he asked, seemingly concerned, blinking innocently for the passengers in front of him who had turned to watch their little drama.

Buffy bit her tongue. Literally. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. It was really all she could do to keep from screaming at him at the top of her lungs and beating him senseless. God, she just wanted to get her fingers around his neck, wipe that smug smirk off his face.

“It’s quite all right, sir.” Her voice sounded a bit like a deranged slide-whistle as she forced out the polite words. Giving him a deadly look that even he didn’t dare defy, she turned back to serving row 31.

Spike, satisfied with his work for now, opened up his airline meal and watched the movements of her hips as she went. Damn, he wanted to eat her up. Bend her right over that dinning cart and take her hard from behind, right in front of all these sheep that surrounded them. Oh, he had recognized the other wolf the instant he had seen her, perky attitude and helpful manner aside. And now he wanted every inch of that hot little body.

Buffy managed to hand out all the rest of the meals without difficulty. Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief before returning the cart to the rear of the airplane. Where her rear promptly met mega-jerk’s hand again as she was backing up.

“‘Scuse me,” he said with a cheeky grin, still playing the innocent passenger. “‘Bout this food.”

Her eyes narrowed. Yeah, right. I’m sooo sure you had to feel up my ass just to get my attention, she seethed inwardly.

Realizing her ire, he hastily finished his request. “Not quite sure ‘s cooked right.”

“Oh?” Her rapidly fading patience was about to break.

But a couple other passengers that had gotten the chicken were looking concerned now, too.

“Here.” He took a piece of chicken on his fork and held it up before her. “Taste my meat, and tell me if ‘s any good.” An evil leer accompanied the request.

Buffy’s eyes practically bulged from their sockets at the audacity of that innuendo. It seemed like no one else had caught it, though, and rather than provoke concern, she was forced to lean forward and eat the chicken off his fork.

He grinned when she swallowed. “Good?” he teased.

“It’s fine,” she assured all the other passengers.

He nodded solemnly, as if he’d just been being careful all along. Everyone else turned back to their own food, and Buffy moved along.

He caught her by the wrist before she could completely escaped, though. “Got even better meat than that for you to taste, luv,” he whispered huskily.

She snorted. “I’m willing to bet that air food is higher quality,” she retorted wickedly, before brushing him off and vanishing into the rear of the aircraft, savoring the gaping look on his face. Ha, Round Three goes to Buffy.

“Would you like something to drink?” Buffy asked the passenger in seat 28-F with a smile.

“Just water,” the woman said, giving Buffy a polite smile as she poured her drink.

Buffy gave her an extra smile before continuing down the aisle. All of row 29 asleep, row 30 empty, row 31 asleep, row 32.fuck.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked mega-jerk, a fake plastic smile plastered on her face.

He considered her for a minute. “Yeah,” he finally agreed with a smirk, eyeing her crotch pointedly – which, to be fair – was right at his eye-level where he was seated. “‘m thinkin’ of somethin’.creamy. Tangy, too, with a bita spice. Salty on my tongue and.” his voice lowered to a husky breath, “So. Smooth. Going. Down.”

Her face reddened at the suggestion, and she pressed her legs tighter together. Whether in defiance or for the friction.well, she didn’t really want to think about it. “I’m afraid there’s nothing like that on the menu,” she informed him curtly.

“You sure?” he asked pointedly, scarred eyebrow raised.

Positive,” she hissed, eyes blazing.

He shrugged. “Your loss. Just some water, then. Gotta make sure my mouth doesn’t dry out, after all.” He gave her a little wink.

She shut her eyes and forced back a whimper. God, she’d never met someone she so instantly hated in all her life. So, why did she have these uncontrollable urges to jump him like a wolverine in heat?

“Here you go,” she snapped angrily – really, it was anger and not sexual frustration.

She placed the cup on his tray. A bit accidentally sloshed over the side at her violent gesture, and he yelped when it landed squarely on the bulging crotch of his jeans.

“Oh, I’m sooo sorry,” she said in the most insincere voice she could manage. “What a mess I’ve made of your pants. Oh well, maybe it’ll help you cool off.” With a triumphant smile, she left him to clean himself off.

Narrowed blue eyes followed after her. Oh, you’ll pay for that one, pet.

Sir?” Buffy banged on the bathroom door loudly. “We’re about to land. I need you to take your seat.”

The sign above the door switched from locked to unlocked. The door didn’t open, though.

“The fasten seatbelt light has been turned back on,” she insisted, knocking again.

A muffled voice through the door. “Think I need a bit more help. C’mon in, pet. ‘m decent.”

“You’ve never lived a decent day in your life,” Buffy grumbled under her breath, finally reaching her snapping point. She flung open the door, spotted him sitting cockily on the edge of the sink, entered the bathroom herself, and shut the door behind her, flipping the lock.

Spike’s eyes widened momentarily when he realized she’d finally lost it.

She gave him a wicked smile. “You owe me.” And her toe intentionally caught his shin, causing him to gasp in pain and fall to his knees in front of her. “You owe me big time,” she amended before hiking up her skirt, pushing aside her lacy red thong, and forcing his head between her legs.

He barely had time to gasp in amazement before his nose was buried in her sweet musk. He let out a little groan before his tongue flicked out to taste her for the first time.

She stifled a cry and ground against his talented mouth. Oh, she’d known that tongue would be absolutely sinful if she gave it half a chance. “Oh, god, yeah,” she murmured, head thrown back against the door.

His lips parted her folds, allowing his tongue to thrust deep inside her. God, she tasted so good. It was like sweet nectar seeing this woman panting raggedly in pleasure for him.

“Yes, yes, ye-” She bit down on her hand to stop herself from screaming out her pleasure to the world.or, at least, the entire flight.

Spike moaned again at the way she pulsed and throbbed against him, the strain in his jeans downright agony by now.

Buffy took three pants of air before looking down at him. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your in-flight beverage,” she informed him in a saccharine a tone as she could manage before moving to leave.

“L-Luv?” he registered this last fact with a whimper. “Buffy?”

For a second, she was tempted to leave him there, all wide blue puppy-dog eyes and raging hard-on. But that little whimper couldn’t help but tug at her heartstrings. Not enough that she forgot what a jerk he’d been, though.

“Hmm, quite a problem you’ve got there,” she couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little, torture him for everything he’d put her through. “Too bad we’re about to land. I’m not sure there’s enough time to properly tend to it.”

A truly pathetic look. “Please.” he murmured, looking up at her hopefully.

She smiled wickedly at him. “Are you begging me?” she demanded.

For an instant, that annoyed, irascible look returned to his face before he reluctantly had to concede his defeat. He doubted he could even stand now, what with the state she’d gotten him in. “‘m begging you,” he finally grumbled in a surly voice.

“I don’t think I quite heard you,” she teased.

His jaw ticked in annoyance. “I’m begging you,” he repeated more loudly.

She smiled and slid down into his lap, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “And have you learned your lesson about not bothering the flight attendants at the end of their very long shifts?” she pressed.

He sighed at the feeling of her hot little body in his arms, rubbing his erection up against her. “Well, who’s the li’l closet dominatrix?” he chuckled softly.

She bit down on his earlobe and twisted. Hard.

He let out a muffled cry.

“Say it,” she demanded roughly.

“I-I’ll never bother the stewardesses again,” he promised with a gulp.

She smiled and licked the razor-sharp edge of one of those scrumptious cheekbones. “And who’s going to service who, exactly?” she insisted, intentionally evading all the jabs of his hips.

Another whimper. “Whatever you want, luv,” he insisted. “‘m your servant.”

Ooh, those had to be the sweetest words she’d heard in all her life. “And you’re going to be a good little servant from now on, right? ‘Cause otherwise you’re not getting your treat.”

“‘ll be good,” he insisted.

“Good boys are no fun,” she countered, moving to get up.

“‘ll be bad!” he hastily amended, eyes wide and panicked.

“Then, no treat,” she pointed out.

A helpless, blank look filled his eyes.

“You’ll be whatever I tell you to be,” she informed him, settling back down in his lap, fingers moving to unfasten his zipper and pull him out.

“Yes.” he breathed in relief.

“That’s more like it,” she agreed, eyes widened for a second as she glanced down at the size on him.

For an instant, the smirk flashed across his features once more. “Care for a ride.mistress?”

“Betcha your service isn’t as good as ours,” she teased, spreading her thighs wide and lining him up with her slick opening.

“Betcha it is,” he encountered, doing that tongue thing again that caused her to melt.

She thrust down hard in response, taking him in, feeling every inch of him stretch her tight passage to its ultimate limits before her body returned the favor, squeezing him tight within her.

“Fuck!” he gasped out, eyes rolling back in their sockets at how hot and wet she was.

“Second that,” Buffy agreed with a grin before riding his cock as hard and fast as she could.

He managed to stutter out meaningless syllables, fingers digging into her hips, as he watched her bob up and down, her firm little breasts bouncing within that conservative blouse they made her wear, and her uniform skirt fanning out around the two of them, concealing their union from the world. The image alone was enough to have his balls clenching up so tight it was painful. But, oh, it was the sweetest pain he’d ever experienced.

Buffy’s head flew back in pleasure as she rolled her hips, feeling the tip of his massive length pounding hard against her g-spot. Oh god, how she’d needed this. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be the best fuck of her life.

“More, oh god more. You’re a goddess,” he whispered against her fevered flesh, drowning in her soft curves.

Buffy’s fingers clutched in his platinum hair, holding him roughly as she let all her frustrations out on this infuriating man. God, he made her burn like nothing else.

“Yes, Buffy!” he gasped out in pleasure, shooting his seed up into her womb. God, that tiny little body, so small it looked like his cock should be ripping her in two, and her blonde hair flying wildly as she rode him like a bucking bronco. “God, yes,” he whimpered, burying his head between her breasts.

Buffy moaned out in ecstasy just seconds after, her inner muscles pulsing around him as she came, milking him of everything he had. For a moment she could have sworn she saw stars as wave after wave of bliss rolled over her.

“Christ.” Spike whimpered against her body one last time.

Dazedly, Buffy came to and recognized the final call to stewardesses that the plane was approaching its final descent. Shakily, she rose to her feet, wiping off their mingled juices with a tissue.

He just watched her blankly for a minute, still too stunned by the power of his orgasm.

“You need to get back to your seat,” she informed him curtly, handing him several tissues for cleaning himself off.

He blinked at them for a second, as if he couldn’t quite recognize what they were.

“Remember how you promised to be a good boy and obey your mistress?” Buffy added with a self-satisfied smirk.

He nodded and moved to follow her instructions.

“And,” she leaned down one last time, “if you’re very good and you leave your address and phone number on your seat when you leave.”

He gulped, rising to shaky feet, body still leaning heavily on hers.

She zipped his pants back up and flushed the tissues down the toilet. “Maybe I’ll get a taste of your in-flight beverage some day.”

A wink, and she opened the bathroom door.

“Okay, even I’m impressed you managed to put up with that one,” Willow commented as the last passenger disembarked and they moved to clean up the aircraft for the next flight.

“And here I thought he put up for me.” Buffy murmured under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Oh.nothing,” she insisted with a blush.

Willow shook her head and threw away a cup that had been left behind. “I would’ve strangled him. But I guess that’s why you’re the senior. I mean, he was as polite as could be at landing.”

“Uh, yeah.” Buffy’s cheeks were burning a deep red, and her eyes were practically riveted on seat 32-G.

“So, how’d you do it?” Willow asked curiously, checking the overhead bins for any lost luggage. “Any tips for the new girl?”

If possible, Buffy’s cheeks burned even more. “I just.tried out a new technique,” she finished vaguely, the place between her legs feeling a bit sore from the success of her ‘technique’. “Not something I would try in general.”

Willow shrugged. “At least he’s gone now,” she said in relief. “Honestly, where do guys like that get off?”

Apparently, in airplane bathrooms. Inside me. “Uh.yeah,” Buffy managed to agree before she arrived with her garbage bag at row 32.

A white index card rested on the seat, blank side facing upwards. Buffy picked it up, turned it over, glanced casually at the address and phone number, and moved to toss it away. One last bit of revenge.

And paused.

This one might be worth keeping, the dirty thought flitted through her brain.

She read over the information again, this time noticing the little note he’d left at the bottom:

I’m yours, my golden goddess. Any time and any place you want me. God, you feel so good. ~Spike

And she smiled and slipped the card into her pocket.

Spike, huh? Maybe this one’s worth keeping, indeed.

A/N: See? Told ya there was no plot. It was a fun ride, though. And not just for Buffy and Spike. ~_^

The End.

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